Rational Limit
by Gnak
Summary: She was in love with a woman who could never feel the same way. Femslash.


"Claire, _calm _down."

"Don't _tell _me to _calm_ down! How about you actually fuck _me_, for _once_, Lockhart."

Tifa's anger flared and as a result, she broke the bedpost with one hit of her powerful gloves; at that point, Lightning knew to step off. "Don't swear in this home," she ordered, calmly, before getting up to put a tank on. Even without the support of a bra, her breasts were perfectly perky, and despite herself, Lightning found herself stopped mid-thought and swallowed her desire to claim Tifa as her own once more. She knew, however, that that's all it would ever be - a claim, and nothing more.

_Unbelievable_, she thought, _You and your ridiculous libido, Farron._

The moonlight and night reflecting off the window gave a calming, blue hue to the room and gave the bartender an almost angelic appearance; and for a moment, Lightning had to remember how to breathe.

The raven-haired beauty's easiness with the situation resonated in her smooth body language, and the ex-soldier almost nearly choked on the shame building up from the pit of her stomach. Her eyebrows creased and her eyes tightened, giving her a sorrowful look, and her soft, pink lips parted to speak, and closed again, and Lightning almost trembled as she watched that full bottom lip move back into place. The traits Lightning Farron found most irresistible lied in the subtleties of movement that demonstrated feminine allure; and Tifa Lockhart was, is and always will be a walking, talking bundle of subtleties. She was so _fucking _subtle, Lightning didn't even realize misinterpretation could mean her downfall until it was too late.

Vanille would root her on to do what she's about to; Fang would find the situation funny.

It hurts to think of them and Fang's right - this is so _fucking _funny - as one of the premier members of the Guardian Corps, Lightning had enough credit to attract the Cocoon's best supermodels and socialites and performers. It took a middle-class bartender with orphans and a rack that defied gravity as well as her own hair did for her to realize why she never gave those gorgeous, successful, sexually-experienced, nice girls the time of the day; they didn't know what the world was really like.

Falling head-over-heels for her was inevitable since the moment they had met, when Lightning had decided she needed a drink to deal with the repercussions of allowing Snow to marry her baby sister. Tifa Lockhart was the most compassionate person she had ever grown to know, and she knew what she was about to do when she cornered her that night just before closing time and _still _felt cheated.

God_damn_.

Lightning should've known - Tifa could never want a temperamental girl who treated her dates unkindly and took her job too seriously, especially not over her childhood sweetheart.

Serah always told her that karma would come looking to punish her for that long trail of broken hearts she left; her sister was always bright.

Tifa took slow strides toward her girlfriend, a petulant expression still visible on her features from her outburst. As she made her way, she held eye contact that spoke of intensity and balance at the same time, rendering the green-eyed beauty speechless and frozen in place. Lightning swayed her head to the side, unable to face interpreting Tifa's intentions. She wanted so badly to step back as Tifa's steps came closer and closer, but found her body staying still, dealing with an imaginary knife that just plunged down her stomach. Gently, but firmly, Tifa took her by the chin with her index finger and said under her breath, "Stop being so negative for a second and look at me," a giggle, and then a kiss, "I _always _make love to you."

Lightning's arms instinctively found themselves wrapped around Tifa's waist, and bringing the large-breasted woman closer. She brushed away strands of hair on her pearly white neck and placed quick kisses up to her jaw, embraced her harder, and desperately took in her strawberry scent, "I want you _so_ much..."

Tifa turned her head, and guided their lips together, before whispering so the children wouldn't wake up in the next room, "Then _take_ me."

And with that, the second cycle of their unbridled, intervalic romance would begin.

* * *

"So how many women have you slept with in the past few months that look like me?"

Aware of her entrance from the moment she stepped into the place, Lightning coolly turned her head around to meet Tifa's eyes with false disinterest. It was clear that the subject in question was Lebreau, who was busy tending to other customers; but Lightning couldn't focus on her newest affair. She could never focus on anything around Tifa. A small quirk of the corner of the those gorgeous lips and again arousal hit right between her legs like a freight train, as if there had been no development of her self-control over the last seventy-three days.

Patient like no other, Tifa motioned for Lebreau to get her the same drink in Lightning's hand, and politely smiled at the pink-haired beauty she unknowingly had just rendered immobilized. Gently, she brought her hand up to whisk away loose strands of hair in her face, gently brushing her face with the back of her fingers before slowly stroking her cheek and teasingly run her index finger across her lips, "Well?"

"Seven."

"Do you remember their names?"

They both knew: Lightning never forgot her women, ever, "Jealousy is unbecoming on you."

A drink quickly slid toward Tifa from across the bar, nearly spilling on her. A pointed look toward the soldier from both bartenders, and Tifa retorted, "Maybe I'm just a feminist."

Lightning firmly set her drink down, hard enough to make a point, "Maybe you should leave."

A stiff sadness swept over Tifa's features, "Don't be unkind, Claire." If she weren't so goddamn sincere, Lightning would've found it easy to chuck her drink at her and walk out.

As it was, she found it easier to take her hand with a vice grip, escort her out of the bar like the woman was royalty, and glare at anyone who didn't feel the same way.

* * *

"Were you," a moan, "sleeping with her?" Tifa asked with bated breath.

Lightning grunted - _God_, Tifa missed that noise that was so characteristic of the soldier - and responded between kisses, "No... Almost."

At that point, Tifa couldn't help but giggle, half ruining the mood and half lightening it up. Claire was _so_ much different from Cloud, from her fighting style to her track record with women; and she was ashamed to admit that she had ever thought of her as a possible replacement for the brooding, emotional wreck of a man. Every time Claire raked her teeth across her neck or ran her hand up her thigh forced Tifa to remember Cloud would never be so daring, unapologetic or dominant. As she plunged deeper into ecstasy and breath became heavy and nails dug and hips bucked, Tifa couldn't think of anything and could only remember that Claire was entirely different from anyone she had ever met. The intensity of their relationship was a unique blend of subtle wordplay, quick glances, rough sex and hard-to-handle jealousy.

Tifa bit hard on Lightning's shoulder when she came, her body erupting with delight and pleasure before gradually coming down to a state of bliss as Claire coaxed her with soft kisses to her temple. As soon as she regained control of herself, an animalistic, possessive growl escaped her lips before she dipped down to sharply lick up Claire's long neck and then running her lips down her chest, leaving a wet trail before stopping at a nipple to suck hard. She lightly bit the nub and ran her hand down to check the wetness between the pink-haired beauty's legs. Satisfied to find the other woman dripping, a lewd, uncharacteristic grin spread across her face as she dropped lower.

Lightning was alarmed and incredibly turned on, having never seen Tifa so physically demanding before. With her best efforts to not falter with her words, she asked, "Tifa. Is there something wrong with," a hard suck, "Ngh..."

The term 'eager' attached to the way Tifa was licking and sucking was easily an understatement. The notion that Tifa wasn't in her right mind quickly evaporated as Lightning had what came to be her greatest orgasm so far.

* * *

Tifa bent down and nibbled on her shoulder before until Lightning snapped out of her reverie.

"Hey," she whispered sweetly , "I came here to talk to you."

"Could've fooled me."

A playful slap to her hip. "I'm serious."

Lightning smiled lightly, flipped around, grabbed Tifa by the thigh, rose to a sitting position, and pulled the other woman so she was put in a straddling position atop her in the sheets, "What's wrong?"

Tifa tucked a loose strand behind her ear, nervous and hesitant. After everything she had put Claire through, could she really expect her to feel the same way after all this time?

Sensing that the woman on top of her wasn't ready to say what she wanted to, Lightning began to give her a way out, "Tifa—"

Tifa shushed her with an index finger on her lips, knowing Claire's intentions, "Listen, I _know _you're not Cloud. You're not tormented or repressed or confused about anything. You're confident and responsible and sometimes commanding, but you strive to take care of your loved ones. You know who you are and I've known that you're a better match for me than Cloud's even capable of being the moment I met you," a heavy sigh, "And I'm sorry I didn't get to tell you before you stormed off."

Despite the adoration in Tifa's eyes and the hopeful smile plastered on her face and increasing arousal evident on Lightning's thigh, because a broken heart came with a sense of distrust and paranoia, Lightning felt that this was _not_ a confession of love. To Lightning Farron, this was nothing more than an apology, and she would _not_ play fool any longer. This couldn't be more than what it was—assurance that the bartender _did_, in fact, love her and could be _in _love with her, had she God-honestly _wanted_ to let _him _go.

And so, she did what she felt was best, "Tifa," a wet kiss, "Go home to your kids."


End file.
